Valentine's Day Kiss
by Brown Eyes Parker
Summary: When she smiled at him, it was like the guests in the ballroom disappeared and it was just the two of them in the whole entire world. Rated: T, set in the distant future. Henry/Jo. Valentine's Day special


**Valentine's Day Kiss**

**A Henry and Jo Story**

**By Brown Eyes Parker**

**Rated: T**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**.**

Jo Martinez was _stunning_.

For the first time in what seemed like _forever_, Henry Morgan's pulse was tripping underneath his finely tailored tuxedo while she walked over to meet him, a vision in designer silk and jewelry that neither of them could afford on their salaries. When she smiled at him, it was like the guests in the ballroom disappeared and it was just the two of them in the whole entire world.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, telling himself it was just a reaction to their surroundings, to the cover singer crooning one Abe's favorite standards while she walked towards him, he told himself that it was just because it was the first time he had gone out with a girl on Valentine's Day since Abigail had passed away. It was the twinkly lights, the romantic atmosphere. . .

Anything but a realization that he was attracted to her, that he was on the cusp of falling for this beautiful, strong woman he was lucky enough to call _friend_.

"Henry?" She asked, breaking into his frantic thoughts.

"Jo," he answered, hoping he sounded steadier than he felt. "You look beautiful tonight."

She smiled at him and slid her hand through his, securing his fingers with her own. "Thanks, you don't look so bad yourself. The department really did a good job making us look the part this time."

There it was again, the reminded that they were on the job, this time from her perfectly painted mouth. He swallowed, hard, and then nodded his agreement. "Yes, they did. They really went all out this time, didn't they? Is that Tiffany's you're wearing my dear?"

Jo's hand went self-consciously to her throat as she stroked the heavy diamond necklace that was resting on her neck. "It's on loan from one of the department's _very_ wealthy benefactors," she answered. "But you didn't hear it from me."

"We should dance," Henry said as the orchestra started another classic.

Jo suddenly remembered herself, remembered their cover stories because she nodded and schooled her features into that of a wealthy socialite as he swept her on the dance floor, not thinking about how long it had been since he had danced with somebody. It was as familiar as riding a bicycle even if the woman in his arms was very different this time around.

In the few minutes they were dancing, Henry forgot why they were there in the first place. He was lost in the melody, in the feel of satin underneath his fingertips and the way she smelled like Dove soap and _Chanel_, probably another borrowed item because it was a scent that was distinctly _not _Jo.

He pulled her closer and wondered if she was feeling the same way, wishing he could read her thoughts, wishing he could see her reactions. The song switched from the standard to a song he hadn't ever heard before, Jo seemed to know it though because she was humming along with it, whispering the lyrics into his ear.

Henry thought that if they weren't on a case, he would have kissed her right there and then even though most of New York's elite were watching them. But they were on a case; they were supposed to be on alert. Kissing her would have to wait for another time, for another place. For a time when he was _sure _she would reciprocate, accept it. Even though right now, when they were pretending to be husband and wife would be the perfect opportunity to steal a kiss.

He hesitated for a moment and then when she moved her head, he captured her lips in a kiss that was less than perfect.

**.**

"_The man sure can kiss. . ." _Jo thought vaguely as Henry's mouth moved over her's. _"No, don't think like that. . . he's kissing me because of the atmosphere, because we're playing a part. Because it's Valentine's Day. We're kissing each other because it's been a long time since either of us kissed somebody we _actually _cared about. . . ._

"I can hear your thoughts," Henry whispered. "They're distracting me."

"Sorry," Jo rasped, easing away from him and looking at him in a way that she hoped was sternly. "_You're _distracting me."

He grinned. "Sorry," he repeated.

She didn't believe him for a second, not when he was looking at her the way he was. Not with his hands still splayed on her waist, her bare shoulder. It was suddenly glaringly obvious they were probably not the best person for this particular job. It brought out feelings she had tried to ignore, feelings _he _had obviously tried to ignore to, if the way he had kissed her was anything to go by.

"Don't kiss me again!"

"I was just trying to make the part more believable," Henry answered.

She knew him well enough now to be able to know when he was bluffing, but she didn't call him out on it, instead she shrugged out of his touch and distanced herself from him a little bit. "Well, _don't_. It's distracting Henry, not helpful!"

"Jo. . ." Henry said. "I understand you're upset with me right now, but the suspect is getting away."

Jo cursed under her breath and hitched up her dress, chasing after their suspect as fast as her designer heels could take her.

Henry followed in case she needed backup, even though he wouldn't be much help. Hanson showed up out of nowhere, cuffs in one hand and a gun in another, quickly out-running Jo who was struggling to keep her dress hiked up.

**.**

Later that night, after they had closed the case, Henry found himself outside of Jo's apartment. There was only one hour left in Valentine's Day, he wanted to finish the night with her. She opened the door and sighed when she saw him.

"Henry," she said.

"Jo," he answered, pulling out a little pink envelope from his overcoat. "This is for you; I forgot to give it to you earlier."

Jo perched herself against the door, suddenly very aware of her bleached stained, navy police shirt and oversized sweatpants. "I don't have anything for you," she told him.

"It's fine," Henry said. "This is hardly chocolate and roses."

"How about some coffee?" Jo offered. "It's decaf."

Henry shrugged. "Coffee sounds great."

"I'll be right back!" Jo said.

She reappeared a few minutes later with her coat and two cups of coffee, they took their drinks on the porch like they had the last time he had visited her late at night. Sitting side-by-side, watching as snow fell lazily from the sky and onto the ground, promising a winter wonderland the next morning.

Her neighbors on the first floor was playing music, if she glanced to the left, she could see the elderly couple's silhouette in the shades, they were dancing so close that it almost looked like they were kissing.

"Listen, Jo. . . I'm sorry about earlier tonight," Henry said, breaking into her thoughts. "I don't know what came over me. I suppose it was the atmosphere."

"It's okay," Jo assured him, smiling at him. "I didn't mind it _that _much. It was. . . just. . . we were on a job and it was unprofessional. And _distracting_."

"Are you saying you wouldn't mind if I kissed you again?" Henry asked.

Jo smiled coyly at him over her coffee cup. "Maybe. If you ask me nicely."

"Jo, _my darling_, may I please kiss you again?"

She closed the distance between them, kissing _him_ this time to a symphony of old music through the window and snowflakes and the taste of decaf coffee with a splash of whiskey to keep them warm while they sat outside in the cold winter weather.

Jo pulled away from him after a beat and caught her breath, making out the old Tony Bennett standard and laughing when she realized what the lyrics were actually saying, the words were actually fitting for them.

Henry _had _found her just in time. He was about to ask her what was so funny when she silenced him with her lips, wishing him a Happy Valentine's Day before kissing him again for the third time that evening.

**_The End_**

**.**

**Author's Note:**

**I told you I'd be back with a romantic story the next time because who am I kidding? I ship the **_**crap **_**out of it. Well, okay, I just ship it but still. . . I'm a romantic and romantics write romantic stories. I hope you'll tell me what you thought of this story. I'll probably be back with another one soon.**

**Until Next Time!**

**Holly, 2/2/2015_**


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